The Mother-Daughter Book Club: Again
by ThePrisoner24601
Summary: Emma, Jess, Megan, Becca and Cassidy have graduated college, gotten jobs, married, and are now raising girls of their own.
1. Phoebe

_Hello there! I don't own MDBC. Enjoy!_

Phoebe

The first day of school.

The first day of middle school.

The first day of my brand-new middle school in a brand-new city in a brand-new state.

I've been up for hours, pacing and praying everything goes smoothly and I don't die or pass out. I look at the clock - 6:33am - Mom will be leaving in about ten minutes.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my mother appears in the threshold of my door. She's in a rush already, and the sun is barely up.

"Morning, Phoebe," Mom smiles weakly, kissing my forehead. "First day of 6th grade, huh?"

I swallow nervously and nod.

"You'll be fine," my mother reassures. "I remember how nervous I was on the first day of middle school - but everything worked out for the best. I didn't pass out or die or anything, and you won't either."

"You had Aunt Jess," I remind her.

My aunt Jess is the best person in the whole world. She's funny, she's smart, she has a million animals and she has the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. In fact, she's the only one of Mom's childhood friends that Mom actually keeps up with. I know how hard the divorce is on her. Heck, it's hard for me, and I was just four when they split up.

"And you'll have your cousins," Mom replies. "Naomi's your age, isn't she?"

Naomi Hawthorne is my best friend and cousin. We do everything together, even though we've spent the past seven years on opposite sides of the country. But even with Naomi there, I'm still freaking out. This is going to be a disaster.

"I'd better head out," Mom says, kissing me. "Get on the bus, eat breakfast - you know the drill."

Mom opens the front door, but I have one more question.

"Mom? Do you think any of your other old friends' kids will be at school?"

My mother doesn't even pause to consider. "I highly doubt it. Last time I checked, everyone had moved away."

Of course, last time Mom checked was about a decade ago. I head to the kitchen to eat my usual - a frozen waffle. If I'm feeling healthy, I'll throw in some microwave bacon. I don't eat too much today, just in case anything happens.

The big yellow bus pulls up right on schedule. I lock the front door and head to my doom. The bus is loud and cramped, but I hear a familiar voice and a hand waves me over.

"Phoebe! Over here!"

Smiling, I take a seat next to my blonde-haired, blue-eyed best friend. I don't recognize a single other face on the bus (not that Iwas expecting to), but with Naomi Hawthorne by my side, I'm suddenly confident that this may not be the worst day ever.

It is.

I don't have a single class with Naomi - not even lunch! My teachers are okay and everything, but they're all determined to draw me out of my shell - something I'm not okay with. The kids are pretty obnoxious, and I can already tell who's popular and who isn't. I can tell who not to mess with and who's pretty decent to be around. I can tell who's a spoiled brat and who's actually nice. And I can tell that Naomi is going to be my only friend this year.

It's the first day of school, but we still have homework. That's a bummer, because I was planning to hang out at Naomi's house until Mom gets off work at the high school. Now, I'll be doing homework instead of playing out with their goats.

On the walk to Half-Moon Farm (Aunt Jess and Uncle Darcy's farm), a tall, blonde woman stops me.

"Are you Phoebe?" she asks. She's got a daughter with her whom I recognize from English - Hannah.

"Yes," I reply nervously.

"I knew your mom back in school," the woman smiles. "I'm Rebecca Rochester. This is Hannah, she's in your grade, I believe."

"Hi," Hannah greets me and gives a little wave.

I relax a little. "Hi," I reply.

"Tell your mom I said hello," Mrs. Rochester says. "You too, Naomi."

We tell her we will and continue on our way home.

"Do you know them?" I ask once the Rochesters are out of earshot.

"Hannah? She's pretty nice. She hangs out with Josie Berkeley and doesn't talk to a lot of other people though."

"Mom told me all of her friends had moved away."

"They did. Well, Hannah moved back like eight years ago or something. And everyone else flocked back to Concord, I guess."

"So now that we've moved back, does that mean our moms are going to get their old book club back together?" I asked, kicking a rock like a soccerball.

"Probably," Naomi shrugs We reach her house, and she grins at me. "Race ya!"

The inside of the Hawthorne house is just like I pictured it. Messy, busy, and loud, but I also instantly feel at home the minute I step through the door. I've never been to Half Moon Farm (flying or driving, a trip across the country is almost impossible on one income), but I feel like I've been here a million times. Between FaceTiming, calling, pictures, and Naomi's vivid descriptions, I feel like I've lived here my entire life.

A little girl with short blonde pigtails darts past, and Naomi grabs her and tickles her. "Stop!" the little girl squeals, but she's laughing. It takes me a few seconds to realize who the girl is - I haven't seen her in years.

Naomi sets the eager child down. "Kylie, remember your cousin Phoebe? You met her when you were just a baby, when we went to Yellowstone National Park with Aunt Emma and Phoebe."

Yellowstone has been our family tradition every summer except last summer, when I went to Band Camp and the Concord Hawthornes went to New Hampshire.

Kylie is all over me in an instant. Being an only child I've never hung out with kids a ton, but Kylie is hard to resist because she's so adorable. She's also hard to resist because she's sitting on my foot.

I laugh. "Hi Kylie!" I scoop her up and hold her, with my little cousin giggling the whole time. I turn to Naomi. "Where's everyone else?"

"I'll get them," Naomi answers, and cups her hands over her mouth. "Nick! Alex! Will! Come downstairs and meet your cousin!"

It sounds like a herd of elephants lives upstairs as my three cousins jump down every single step before finally dashing into the living room. Will is just like I remembered him - 8 years old with curly blonde hair and freckles. He's wearing a Manchester United football jersey that's streaked with dirt, and he's wearing a pair of ratty old tennis shoes. Alex has shot up, he's almost my height, even though he's just nine. He's wearing a t-shirt with "Emerson Elementary Spelling Bee" on it and glasses too big for his thin face. He still has that know-it-all appearance - it has something to do with the way he looks at you, like he's deciding if you're a decent person or not. Nick, good ol' Nick, hasn't changed a bit. Sure, he's taller, better-looking, and ten years old, but he's still got a mischievous grin and plenty of freckles. He grew out his hair to his shoulders, and it looks decent. He looks like he just came from basketball practice - or at least he smells like it. I smile at the thought.

And then Aunt Jess comes around the corner, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

"Phoebe!" she exclaims, enveloping me in a hug. "How was school, dear?"

"Fine," I reply. "I've missed you all so much."

"And we've missed you," Aunt Jess responds gently. "Come on, let's fix you girls something to eat. How about cookies?"

I crack eggs and pour milk while Aunt Jess stirs, Naomi is defending the batter from the fingers of the four younger cousins. Aunt Jess is humming a tune I don't recogize but eventually hum along to too. I smile down at my egg whites. _This_ is the family I've always been missing.


	2. Josie

Josie

"Oh, hi Jess!"

I'm sitting at the kitchen counter after school, waiting on my mom to _hurry up and get off the phone_ so I can tell her about my day.

"She said the day went well. How does Naomi feel about it?" _Pause_. "Well, that's great!" _Long pause_. "Did she really? I haven't talked to her in years, how long has it been since the divorce?" _Longer pause_. "It's horrible, isn't it? I remember talking to her about it, but that was seven or eight years ago - Josie was in preschool." _Even longer pause_. "That would be so much fun! Mom's still in Colorado, she's got that cabin out there, but I'm sure we could persuade her to move back - she wouldn't miss this kind of opportunity!" _Really really long pause_. "That would be great! I'm so excited! I'll call Cassidy and talk to her about it - maybe two o'clock this Sunday at my house?" _Pause_. "Sounds good! I'll talk to you soon. Bye!"

And finally, Mom hung up.

"Who _was_ that?" I snap. "And what was so important?"

"Josie Berkley! Attitude!" Mom reproaches quickly. "Anyway, that was Mrs. Hawthorne, and we think it would be fun to restart the Mother-Daughter Book Club with you girls!"

I gape at her. Reading? Not my thing. I prefer design, like my mom. Only I want to be an interior designer when I grow up, not a fashion designer.

"I know what you're thinking, and I'm going to tell you that I had the same expression when Grandma Lily told me," Mom laughs, making her silver hoop earrings sway. "I didn't love reading when I was your age, and it still isn't my favorite hobby now. But getting together with girls your age and moms who've been through what you have - that was my favorite part."

"Who's going to be in it?" I ask cautiously. I know who was in my mom's childhood book club, and I'm praying it's different kids. Except Hannah Rochester, my best friend. She's awesome.

"Well, we are," Mom replies. "The Hawthornes and the Rochesters are in, and I'm about to call Aunt Cassidy. And Emma Hawthorne and her daughter Phoebe."

"I thought Emma lived in Seattle?" I ask.

"She did until two weeks ago," my mother answers.

"Is it because Stewart left?" I question, praying Mom doesn't murder me for asking. No one talks about Mrs. Rochester's brother and Ms. Hawthorne.

Mom sighs but she doesn't seem mad, for once. "Yes, I suppose so. But I've said it before - we're not going to go around discussing it."

"Ok Mom," I reply, hopping off my barstool and heading upstairs. I whip out my cellphone and text Hannah furiously.

"Did your mom tell you?"

"Yes! I'm excited, u?"

"Ugh, no! I hate reading!"

"Yeah, it's not my favorite. And besides u I'm not close to any of the other girls."

"Yeah."

"I met Ms. Hawthorne's daughter today, she seemed nice tho."

"Cool. I wonder if she's like her mom - my mom says Ms. H was a total nerd."

"Haha."

"I hope we don't have to deal with a know-it-all in book club."

"Yeah I guess. I gtg do homework, bye!"

"See ya!"

I turn off my phone, flop on the bed, and look at the ceiling. The sun is starting to go down when Mom calls me to dinner.

We sit at the table to eat - me, Mom, and Dad, while Violet brushes against me under the table. We've had our old grey cat since third grade, and I consider her my little sister. Which sounds weird, but I hate being an only child. Technically, I have an older sister - Rebecca, but she just started college in Colorado and now I have the whole house to myself. It's nice sometimes, but it gets really lonely. I try to stop thinking about it and focus on my mashed potatoes.

"Wonderful dinner," Dad smiles.

"Thank you," Mom answers. "How was work?"

"It was just fine," Dad replies. "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," Mom responds.

I groan inwardly. My parents are always so busy with work they don't even know how to act like a family. My dad is a history professor at the University of Boston, and he rarely makes it home every night before nine o'clock. My mom has this huge design studio in New York City and she spends half the week down at her studio. We used to live in Paris until I was like, six, but even now my parents are still so wrapped up in work that family dinner is a rare occurance. Maybe this dumb book club will give me more time to talk to Mom - and not about stupid stuff either - honest conversations.

"So," Dad says, clearing his throat. "How was middle school, Josie?"

"It was fine," I reply, bored. "I have a bunch of classes with Hannah, and I like my teachers so far."

"Well that's great!" Dad smiles. My father is from England and I love his accent. I've grown up hearing my mother's American accent, my dad's British one, Grandma Lily's hint of a Chinese accent, and the French accents of all my old friends in France - including some of my dad's cousins.

I nod, smile, and return to my food. By the time my parents are washing dishes, I remember my load of homework and head up to my room.


	3. Hannah

Hannah

Everyone assumes I despise reading. Maybe its the fact that I gossip over boys at the lunch table and act like the school library is a torture chamber. Actually, I adore reading. I read before school, after school, and long into the night when I can. I love the feeling of escaping reality - even if it's only for an hour or so. I'm willing to wait in long lines to get the next book in a series and I'd rather walk through fire than mess up a library book.

My bestf friend Josie Berkeley hates reading, so I usually don't talk about my obsession around her. Honestly, I've started seriously questioning my friendship with Josie. For one, we're polar opposites - she's super outgoing and does dance, cheer, and gymnastics. I, on the other hand, am more studious, and I'd skip a party to curl up with a good book. I don't play sports, unless the piano and violin count as a physical workout. If our moms weren't BFFs when they were our age and had basically forced us to be besties too, I doubt Josie and I would be anything more than casual acquaintances.

"Hannah!" my mom calls. "Put your book away, let's go! We have to be at Josie's in ten minutes for book club!"

I sigh - I was at a really good part in _The Secret Garden_. I throw on a pair of tennis shoes that twin with Josie's pair and take my wavy blonde hair out of its messy ponytail. One last look in the mirror tells me I'm good to go. I bounce down the stairs like a six year old, but I don't care. I've been wanting to be in a book club forever.

"Look at you, ladies," Dad smiles. He's wrapped up in a book too. Jack, my nine year old little brother, is eating a bowl of ice cream. "Are you excited?"

I shrug, and my mom squeezes my shoulder. "It'll be fun, sweetheart."

"It'll be fun, sweetheart!" Jack mimics with a high pitched voice that sends ice cream flying out of his mouth.

"Say it, don't spray it," I snap, disgusted. Boys. Josie's got a huge crush on Anthony Peters and they're basically dating. Me? Boys are gross.

"Well, we'd better get going," Mom says, looking at her watch.

I nod and follow her out the door. We don't say much on the ride to Josie's, but I hum along to the radio happily. We show up at ten minutes to two o'clock, and Josie immediately answers the door.

"Come on," she says, dragging Mom and me inside. "Let's go hide in my room."

I sigh and follow her. Mom never actually told me who was going to be here - besides Josie, of course - and I'm suddenly worried. _Who the heck did they invite that makes Josie want to hide?_

The doorbell rings as we're going upstairs. It's Mrs. Hawthorne and her daughter - what's her name?

"Do you girls know each other?" Mom asks, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder. Crap! What is her name?

"Sorta," Josie lies. "We don't have a lot of classes together."

"Same here," I echo, and the moms nod understandingly.

"Josie, why don't you show Naomi your room?" Mrs. Berkeley smiles with that you-don't-have-a-choice look. My best friend sighs heavily and trudges upstairs, dragging Naomi and me with her. We stand around in the bedroom awkwardly because none of us know what to say. Every time I open my mouth, a little voice in my head stops me.

"Girls! Time to get started!" Mrs. Berkeley calls.

"Why are we hiding in your room?" I whisper to Josie as we head downstairs, but she doesn't answer.

When the three of us walk into the living room, I notice two more families have arrived: Josie's aunt and cousin, Mrs. Berkeley and her daughter - Cammi. Cammi just moved here from England in the middle of 5th grade and has lived in the U.K her entire life. She plays soccer (sorry, _football_ ) and every ice sport in existence.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see Aunt Emma. Her daughter Phoebe is standing next to her, and my face turns beet red. We hate talking about Emma and Phoebe or the divorce at all. Uncle Stewart showed up on our door step one night when I was four, saying he'd made a stupid decision (actually, he used a much worse word than "stupid"). He didn't explain why for several weeks before opening up and then hiding out in our basement. Uncle Stewart served as the poster child to what a messy marriage can look like. Aunt Emma had moved away too - Seattle. She'd gotten custody of their daughter and stormed out. We never heard from any fo them again. Yet here they are, sitting on Josie's couch. I sit down next to my mom and flash her a confused look.

"Alright, girls," Mrs. Hawthorne says. "We've been waiting a long time to do this with you. I don't know about the rest of your moms, but Mother-Daughter Book Club was one of the best things that happened to me. I met these four incredible girls, and we want you girls to have that same kind of friendship. So, on to the discussion of our book. We thought it would be great to start with what we started with, _Little Women_!"

Naomi groans. "That book is so old, Mom!"

"Well, it was old when we read it, sweetie," Mrs. Hawthorne replies, smiling.

"But it's even older now, and you guys have already read it!" Naomi counters.

Mrs. Hawthorne bites her lip. "She's got a point."

"Can we read something else?" Josie asks.

"Josie!" her mom reproofs lightly. "Manners!"

My best friend rolls her eyes. Even though we're squished together on the couch, I do my best to slide a little away from her.

"How about _Dragon's Blood_?" the British Mrs. Berkeley suggests, and her daughter perks up.

"Ooo! That sounds like a fun one!" my mom exclaims. "Don't you think, Hannah?"

I shrug. "I've already read it."

"What a reader!" Mrs. Hawthorne responds, impressed. "Well, there are other books we could read."

Ideas float around for several minutes, but no one can seem to agree. _A Wrinkle in Time_. _Twenty-One Balloons_. _Julie of the Wolves_. _The Swiss Family Robinson_. _Doctor Doolittle_. All of them are either too advanced, too babyish, are already required at school, or one of us has already read it. Everyone is silent for a while, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. But eventually, Mrs. Hawthorne comes up with the perfect idea.

"What about _Around the World in Eighty Days_?" she suggests. "I remember reading that in 6th grade."

All the moms smile happily.

"Perfect," Mom answers, and everyone nods in agreement. Well, everyone exceot Josie. She's pulled out her phone and is texting me. My phone buzzes angrily in my pocket. I want to lean over and shush her, but something stops me. I sigh and turn my attention to the schedule my mom is passing out.

"We'll meet every Sunday afternoon at someone's house," Mom says. "Read chapters one through four, and we'll discuss them next week."

Everyone nods, and the American Mrs. Berkeley heads to the kitchen.

"With no Kimball Farm, we had to make do with regular ice cream," she sighs, opening a half gallon of strawberry ice cream.

"What's Kimball Farm?" Naomi asks.

"An old ice cream shop," her mother explains. "It closed when you were about two. We used to kick off our book club every year with ice cream from Kimball Farm."

"Oh. Well, this looks delicious. Thank you, Mrs. Berkeley."

"Goody two shoes," Josie whispers. I sigh helplessly. Josie can be a real brat sometimes.

"Let's go eat in my room," Josie says, grabbing my hand. I turn around to walk with the other girls when I realize Josie was only inviting _me_.

"What about Naomi and Cammi and Phoebe?" I ask, slightly angry.

"Book club's over," she shrugs. I open my mouth to argue, but my mom does the talking instead.

"Hannah, did you ask the other girls if they would like to join you two?"

"Do you want to come with us?" I ask the others. Naomi stands up and Cammi follows her, but Phoebe shakes her head. I smile anyway and lead them upstairs.

"So, how do you guys like Walden so far?" I ask, praying this will break the ice.

"The sports are great," Cammi answers. "Everything else, not so much."

"I like it a lot," Naomi adds. "The music program is way better than Emerson."

I nod in agreement. I love our orchestra teacher, Mr. Malone. He makes it so much fun, and for once I'm actually excited to perform in front of everyone at our fall concert.

"It's fun," Josie shrugs. "I can't wait for high school though."

That's because in high school, Josie is finally allowed to date. I sigh.

"I'm glad Mum taught me how to play baseball," Cammi adds. "If I work hard, Coach says I'll make the team."

"That's so cool!" Naomi smiles encouragingly.

We dive back in to awkward silence as we eat our ice cream. Josie pulls out her phone, Naomi starts looking around the room, and Cammi is standing up to leave. I sigh. What fun this is going to be.

"Hi," a voice says. I turn around, and Phoebe is standing in the threshold.

"Hey Phoebe!" Naomi smiles. "Come on in."

Phoebe sits down next to her cousin, and they start talking about things I don't understand. It feels like a million years later when Mrs. Hawthorne knocks on the door.

"Naomi? Phoebe? Time to head out." She examines the rest of us. "Did you girls manage to break the ice?"

Cammi slaps on a grin and nods, and I do the same. Mrs. Hawthorne seems satisfied with that answer, and they leave. Josie scoots over to me and shows me a really stupid picture she saw on Instagram. I'm still laughing when Mom comes in and tells me it's time to go.

"See ya," Josie says, flopping onto her bed.

"Bye," I manage.

"Well," Mom says, placing her hands at two o'clock and ten o'clock as I crank up the volume on the radio. "What do you think?"

I shrug. "The girls are okay. I'm excited to read our book, though."

"You're all from different friend groups. It's going to take some time for you to warm up to each other."

"Besides Josie and I," I add.

"About that," Mom exhales. "I don't want you two becoming exclusive, okay? I've notice you ignoring other people when Josie's around."

I open my mouth to explain everything to her, to tell her how I feel about Josie - but I bite my lip instead. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

Mom squeezes my arm and hums along to the radio. I look absentmindedly out the window. This whole book club thing isn't as great as I thought. In fact, it's going to be a disaster.

 _Apologies for that crappy chapter. A new one should be out soon though._


	4. Naomi

Naomi

I'm woken up by banging.

Of course, in a family of seven that isn't unusual. Disgruntled, I crawl out of bed and slip my feet into my ratty old bunny slippers. I open my curtains and smile: It's Labor Day, which means no school. I still had to wake up and do my chores, but then I got to slide right back into bed and sleep. Apparently, my brothers decree that naptime is over.

I look out at our acres and acres of land, filled with trees and trails and secret hideouts and creeks and our big pond where we catch minnows in the summer. Half-Moon Farm is my favorite place in the whole world. Technically, it isn't really a farm anymore. I mean, we have goats, chickens, ducks, and way too many dogs, but we're way too busy to turn it into a business. With Dad a teacher at the high school (Advanced History) and Mom teaching private music lessons when she isn't at the vet clinic, our "farm" has turned into a bunch of animals with lots of land to roam around on. Nonetheless, I love Half-Moon Farm more than life itself.

I can hear my mom yelling at the boys downstairs, and Kylie is crying about something. I shut my curtains and head downstairs.

"Morning, Naomi," Mom greets me, taking a sip of her coffee and turning the page of _Around the World in Eighty Days_.

"Good morning!" I smile cheefully, fixing myself a cup of tea. "Where's Dad?"

"Out with the goats. Nala is not doing well with that cast."

Nala, one of our newest goats, broke her leg a couple of days ago and has been in a cast ever since.

"When does she get it off?"

"Oh, not for a while. But she'll get used to it."

I nod and pour myself a bowl of cereal.

"I broke my leg in high school," Mom reflects. "I was supposed to go to Switzerland, I think, with my roommates."

"How old were you?"

"Oh, let's see - this would have been my sophomore year, so I was about fifteen."

"Geez, that's rough."

The back door opens, my father is standing in the threshold. He's sweaty and obviously exhausted, but grinning like a goofball. He takes off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his curls.

"Hey stranger," Mom smiles at him.

Dad tugs on Mom's French braid and she swats him playfully with her book. I shake my head and smile to myself as I butter some toast. My parents are the Dream Team - I want a relationship like theirs one day. All the boys in my grade are idiots. I take a long sip of my tea while Mom and Dad converse about Nala.

"Watch out!" a brother cries. I whip around to see Nick dragging Alex and Will in a laundry hamper through the kitchen. They're all wearing bike helmets and eye black, and whatever game they're playing apparently required them all to be shirtless. I sigh and return to my breakfast.

"What are you boys up to?" Dad asks, shaking his head.

"Nothing!" my brothers crow simultaneously.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Mom notes, eyeing their laundry hamper and helmets as she washes her empty coffee cup. "Just try not to get hurt, ok?"

The boys don't answer; Nick is rushing them off again. Dad laughs as they exit, and Mom swats him again. "Don't encourage them, Darcy!"

"They're boys! They're just having fun!"

"Will you still be saying that when they're teenagers and their version of 'fun' is partying till 3am?" Mom retorts, putting a hand on her hip. Dad wraps his arms around her waist and they share a slow, gentle kiss. I am suddenly fascinated by my empty cereal bowl.

"Good morning Jess," Dad murmurs.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy? But surely I'm better than the famous Mr. Darcy, right?"

"Of course you are, silly. My Mr. Darcy's real."

I turn around, thinking it's over, just in time to watch my parents share another slow kiss. I groan as Mom lays her head on Dad. Of course, my brothers, this time with little Kylie in tow, burst into the kitchen at that exact moment. Kylie gasps, Will laughs, and Alex hides his face in disgust. I giggle at my brothers' reactions, but NIck puts a finger to his lips to signal me to shut up. He tiptoes over to the radio flips it on. Some corny love song is suddenly blasting, and my parents immediately break apart. Mom puts her hands on her hips and grins at us.

"Alright, love fest is over," Dad grins. "I'm going to the hardware store if anyone wants to come."

"Or you can come with me to the grocery store to grab some stuff for tonight," Mom adds.

Since it's Labor Day, we're having my mom's family _and_ my dad's family out to the farm for a big cookout. My parents' families were best friends when my mom and dad were kids, so we're kinda just one big happy family. This means I'll get to see Aunt Emma and Phoebe, as well as Grant, Charlie, Chris, and Morgan, my boy cousins.

The boys are instantly enthusiastic about the hardware store and dash off to brush their teeth. I head upstairs to get dressed, and when everyone is finally ready, the boys head to the hardware store, and I climb in the front seat of our minivan to ride with Mom. Kylie, who is strapped in in the backseat, is singing happily to herself.

"Are you excited for tonight?" Mom asks.

"Yep! I can't wait to see all my cousins."

"How old are they all now? Grant is Nick's age, right?"

"Yes, and Chris is eight. Charlie is six, I think, and Morgan is three."

"Okay, I'll try to remember that," Mom laughs. We're silent for a few minutes.

"Mom? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, sweetie. What's up?"

I've always been close to my mom. Like, really close. I feel like I can tell her anything and she won't judge me, which is something I absolutely love. But this question for some reason gets caught in my throat every time. I swallow and avoid eye contact, praying I'm not strring up a hornet's nest or anything.

"What happened to Aunt Emma?"

Mom takes a minute or so to think. "Come to think of it, no one's ever really explained it to you, have they? Well, I'll start by saying then that you are in zero trouble for asking."

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Anyway, Emma and I graduated high school together, and I headed to Julliard, she was going to Middlebury where her boyfriend Stewart was. We said our goodbyes and planned to meet several times during the semester. I found out two months into the schoolyear that Emma and Stewart were engaged. I was pretty surprised, since Emma and Stewart were always very cautious and modest with their relationship. But I was in the wedding, so I drove up to Vermont for a small wedding. I found out later that none of their parents thought the two of them were ready to be married. But Emma and Stewart got married anyway, and they continued college. Just before summer, Emma became pregnant. Everyone in the book club was so excited, because they planned on moving back to Concord to raise her. But the baby - the baby died a few minutes after she was born. And those plans just fell apart."

"That's awful," I breathe.

Mom nods slowly, and I realize this is a hard story for her to tell. "Emma graduated college a few years later and they made plans to move back to Concord. But then they had to move out to Michigan because of Stewart's job. Emma became pregnant again just before they moved, and Phoebe was born a few months after I had you. Stewart and Emma started fighting constantly. Then out of the blue, he left. Emma was left with no source of income, in a city she'd lived in for just over a year, and she had a newborn. A few months later, Stewart came back, apologizing and promising to never leave again. But three years later, he surprised her with divorce papers. Emma was given custody of Phoebe in court and then Stewart hopped on a plane to Concord and moved in with Mr. and Mrs. Rochester."

"And Emma?"

"She hopped on a bus to Seattle and got herself a job. Never stepped foot in a church again, never spoke about Stewart, and never talked to any of the other girls."

I don't know what to say. Tears fill my eyes and I swipe at them angrily. Mom gently place her hand on my leg. I give her a weak smile. "D- does Phoebe know the whole story?"

"I'm praying she doesn't," Mom sighs.

"But I know it," I point out, confused.

"There's a lot more to the story," Mom explains, trying not to look at me, "topics I'm not sure you're ready to hear."

I nod slowly, trying to digest everything. "Stewart is evil."

"Amen to that, sister."

That makes us laugh, but deep down, a small seed of hate has been placed in me. And I want revenge.

"Grandma Phoebe and Grandpa Nate!" Kylie squeals. My siblings and I jump up from the couch and tear open the front door. My grandparents envelope us all in a big hug.

"How are my beautiful grandchildren?" my grandmother asks, kissing us each on the forehead.

"Yuck!" Will says when it's his turn.

"We're good," I reply, stepping in front of my pesky youngest brother.

"We've got gifts in the trunk, but mind the suitcases!" Grandma calls after the boys, who dash off at the word 'presents'. Grandpa Nate follows them. "Where are your parents?"

"Inside," Kylie says, much more interested in my grandmother's jewelry than hospitality.

"And how are you?" Grandma Phoebe questions, putting her arm around me. I breathe in her smell: old books and peppermint.

"I'm good. School is fun so far, I like all my classes and teachers. And we started a mother daughter book club too!"

"I heard about that," Grandma smiles. "Are you liking it so far?"

I nod.

"Are you in any shows right now?"

"We just finished Cinderella with the community theatre, and you saw that one. I was a Stepsister, rememeber? And our school is doing _The Wizard of Oz_ at Christmas."

"That's great! Tell me when you find out your role."

"You'll be the first to know," I promise. "Besides my parents, of course."

I lead my grandmother inside, where the adults quickly get swept up in a conversation I don't care to listen to. My siblings and I continue to stake out at the front door, until a big white SUV pulls up. Uncle Ryan, Aunt Sophie, Charlie and Chris jump out of the car and give us all hugs. The boys dash off to the barn to do who-knows-what. My aunt and uncle head inside, and another car pulls up - Uncle Dylan, Aunt Molly, Grant, and Morgan. Kylie and Morgan, who are inseparable when we get them together, run into the house to play. Grandpa Mike shows up a few minutes later, but hurries inside to say hello to the adults. So I sit out alone on the driveway, waiting eagerly for Aunt Emma and Phoebe.

They pull up thirty minutes late, looking disheveled and stressed.

"Hi Naomi!" Aunt Emma exclaims. "The welcoming commitee, I assume?"

"Yep," I answer, giving Phoebe a hug.

"I'm so sorry we're late," Aunt Emma apologizes quickly. "I was working on some papers for work and lost track of time!"

"It's okay," I reply, leading them inside, where the strong scent of burgers lies. "You're here now, and the party's about to start!"

"So, how do you like Concord so far?"

Phoebe and I are sitting on my bed, playing music and hiding from our parents. She's doodling aimlessly on her hand, a habit she still hasn't broken.

"It's pretty, and everyone seems nice," my cousin responds, not looking up from her doodles. "It's different from Washington. A good different, though."

I nod sympathetically. "Do you like Walden?"

"Nope," Phoebe whispers. "You're my only friend, Naomi."

"Give it some time, Phoebe," I reassure her. "It'll get better. Plus, if we're lucky like our moms were, we'll become lifelong friends with Josie, Hannah, and Cammi."

Phoebe groans. "Josie's annoying."

"Amen to that."

That makes my cousin snort, and we both laugh.

"And Hannah just follows her around!" Phoebe sighs. "It's annoying."

"But do you like Mr. Malone?" I ask, knowing she has orchestra.

Phoebe perks up. "He's really nice! He says I have a good shot at first chair if I practice hard, and he picked really great music for our fall concert."

Someone knocks on the door. "Phoebe, it's time to go."

"Ok Mom."

"See ya tomorrow," I smile, and Phoebe flashes me a grin.

"Until tomorrow."

 _Hello! If I haven't been super clear on whose daughter is whose, here ya go:_

 _Emma Hawthorne (and the absent Stewart Chadwick) - Phoebe_

 _Simon and Megan Berkeley - Josie (oh btw she is NOT name after Josie Pye from Anne of Green Gables, haha. Her name is short for Josephine)_

 _Theodore and Becca Rochester - Hannah_

 _Darcy and Jess Hawthorne - Naomi_

 _Tristan and Cassidy Berkeley - Cammi_

 _Lately I've been plague with the annoying little thing we call Writer's Block, so any ideas you have for this story are welcomed (but please mind your language)_


	5. Cammi

Cammi

We moved to Concord over a year ago and I still miss England with all my heart.

My parents fell in love in high school but stayed "friends" until they had both graduated college. They married a few years later and moved to England, where my mom coached ice hockey and Dad was a professional ice dancer. Yeah. I know. Kind of embarrassing. But Dad made quite a bit of money, which gave us a nice little house in Bath, England. My parents had my older sister Caroline and moved to Manchester, where they had me! Technically, my name is Camilla, but I prefer Cammi. Like Cammi Granato. When I was two, we moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where David was born. Anyway, we've lived all over the place thanks to Dad: Dublin, Edinborough, Paris, London, Berlin, and even Oslo, Norway.

But I liked it. I'm an outgoing person and usually pretty popular at my schools (among the jocks at least). I've played hockey and football (sorry, _soccer_ ) since I was two, so I've gotten fairly good. But changing continents is really hard, even for someone like me.

I get why we moved though. I mean, my grandparents are older now, Concord is where my mom grew up, blah blah blah. Those are the excuses, at least. The real reason we moved is because of my dad's injury.

I was in Year 4 - 3rd grade, I mean - when I got called to the office. My grandparents (my dad's parents, by the way) were waiting, crying and hugging each other. We drove to the hospital, where I was informed that "Daddy was in an accident". He'd hit his head on the ice and suffered severe brain damage, damage that would confine him to a wheelchair the rest of his life. The doctors performed a bunch of surgeries on my dad, each one helping him only a tiny bit. When he was finally released from the hospital, nothing was the same. Mom explained that Dad was "very sad on account of his inability to skate". So, we moved away from England, away from my grandparents, away from my friends, and away from everything I'd ever known.

"Cammi!"

I don't want to wake up.

"Cammi!"

I swear, if David doesn't stop waking me up at five am every morning, I'm going to murder him.

"Cammi, wake up!"

"Leave me alone!" I grumble.

"We have school today!" David exclaims. "We have to get ready!"

I reach out my hand and fumble around until I find his face. Then I slap it. Hard.

"Ow!"

"Well then leave me alone."

"Fine." David stomps out of the room. Of course, now I can't go back to sleep. Groaning, I stumble out of bed. The sun hasn't even come up, and I shiver in the darkness. I glance at my watch's bright screen, which reads: 5:34 AM. Great. It isn't even midday in England. I sigh and throw on some sweats. Might as well go for a run.

The air feels amazing outside. It's cold, like skating rink kind of cold, and it fills my lungs as I jog. Our house, which Mom grew up in, is near the Old North Bridge, so I head that direction.

Today is softball tryouts, and I'm kind of stressed about it. I grew up playing with my family and watching on TV, but I'm still slightly terrified to tryout for an American sport I've never actually played. On the other hand, Mom says I'm a fast learner and that we Berkeleys are skilled at every sport under the sun. I shake off my negative thoughts and draw in a deep breath. My feet hit the ground in a musical pattern. I love how soothing running is. Mom used to go on a two hour run every morning after Dad's accident. She's given that up, but I can understand her reasoning. There's something calming about running in the cold morning air. I wish Dad could run, I think bitterly, thinking of my father's wheelchair whom he nicknamed Prison. Maybe then he wouldn't be so upset.

"Hi Cammi."

"Hey C!"

"Cam, can I talk to you for a second?"

"What did you make on that history test last week?"

"I heard you're trying out for softball."

Every second of my freaking life is avoiding people.

When I moved in fifth grade, people got so excited that a "real life British person" (someone literally called me that) was at school. I was popular the instant I walked into school. It was nice at first, I got to know a lot of people, but I really just want to hang out with the jocks. The guys are fun to be around, they don't care that I sound "funny" or call them "crisps" instead of "chips". But a lot of the girls act like I'm some freak. They aren't mean or anything, but they act like I'm their queen and are constantly sucking up to me. Shelby Marcus is actually learning _Norwegian_ to impress me. What the heck?

"Hey Cammi!" a familiar voice shouts. I whirl around to see Anthony Peters grinning at me. Every girl in school's got a hige crush on him, but I don't see the big deal. Curly, sand-blond hair and freckles? Oh, I'm melting. "Ready for today?"

I break into a grin. "Counting down the hours, dude!" He gapes at me, and I realize I let an American accent slip in.

"Hey, nice American accent!" he compliments, shifting his backpack onto his other shoulder.

"Thanks," I answer, slipping back into British. I tuck a loose strand of red hair behind my ear as Anthony struggles to break the now awkward silence.

"So, I'll see you in science?"

"Guess so. See ya!" I call, already walking to band. I pass Naomi Hawthorne, who smiles and waves. Naomi's pretty nice, but we don't have much in common.

"See ya Sunday!" she says.

I nod, remembering that I haven't even started the book. Honestly, I'm not excited about this whole book club thing. It doesn't sound like something I'm going to like. The bell rings, jerking me out of my thoughts and sending me into a mad dash for the band room.

"Alright, gather 'round, girls," Coach barks, and the twenty-something girls drop their bats and gloves and stand around Coach Norton.

"You can call me Mr. Norton," he introduces, "except for twelve of you, who will be calling me Coach Norton after today. I grew up at Walden and played baseball, Mackenzie is my daughter."

A tall blonde girl with a stern face raises her hand to show that she's his kid.

"Anyway, we'll be doing some simple drills today. Batting, catching the ball, running, and throwing. If you know how to slide, slide. If you can bunt, bunt. Now is the time to show me what you can do, do not save it for practices. After the tryouts, those who want to show their abilities at pitching, catching, and playing first base will need to stay a few more minutes. For now, everyone grab your bats and helmets. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir!" everyone crows. I shake off my nerves and grab my bat. I take a seat on the bench in the dugout. I grab my water and down a quarter of it, knowing I'm going to need to be hydrated.

"Hi," a girl says. She sits down next to me and takes off her helmet. It's that Mackenzie girl. "You're Cammi, right?"

I nod and swallow my water. "Cammi Berkeley. So you're Norton's daughter?"

"Yep, and it's got its perks. But I feel like I'm going to have to work harder than everyone else here to show that it isn't favoritism when I get on the team."

I choke on my drink. "When you get on the team?"

"Well, yeah. I've been playing for almost ten years. I'm always the catcher. Lindsay over there? She's first baseman. Iris pitches, Grace is either second base or outfield, and Kate plays shortstop. Baylee was our third baseman, but she moved to Kentucky."

All my nerves are suddenly justified. I have no chance of making it on this team. Part of me wants to grab my stuff and head home, why try?

"Berkeley!" Norton calls. "You're next."

On the other hand, another part of me wants to show them what I can do.

"This is Delaney," Mr. Norton explains, motioning to a broad-shoulder, muscular girl who looks to be in high school. "She plays softball at the high school, and she's going to be pitching."

I nod and tighten my grip on the bat. I close my eyes and take a good practice swing, remembering what Mum told me. "You have a new chance to create whatever sort of reputation you want. Don't become the Quitter."

I step up to the plate, ready.

I miss the first ball, and watch Norton write something on his clipboard.

The next ball rolls down the baseline, so it's a foul ball. Norton scribbles on his clipboard.

I hit the third ball, and it soars until dropping into center field. I grin and practically skip back to the dugout.

I do pretty well the rest of tryouts. I catch about ninety-five percent of the balls thrown at me, I throw fairly well, and my running time is 7.2 seconds, which is something to be proud of. Of course, I'm not the fastest time or the farthest throw. I gather my stuff feeling kinda down in the dumps.

"Berkeley!" I whip around, and Coach Norton is standing there.

"I'm impressed by your catching abilities, Cammi. Do you think you could stay and show me your catching skills? You can go first, if you need to get out of here," he adds, noting my dad at the fence. I wave to my father, who gives me a thumbs up.

"Can I stay for a few minutes and catch, Dad?"

My father nods, and wheels over to the car to wait.

"You must be Cassidy Sloane's daughter," Coach Norton says as we head over to the catching gear. "She was one of my best friends in school." He motions to the gear. "Do you need to borrow this gear?"

"I've never played catcher before," I admit, and he fixes me up with a mask and pads.

"I think you'll like it."

"How was it?" Mum asks when I get in the car.

"Fine. I don't think I made the team."

"Well, as much as that sucks, I'm sure you did really well."

I shrug and stare out the window. As much as I want to make it, Mackenzie's words keep echoing in my head.

The list is posted the next day.

I'm a bundle of nerves all morning, until lunch when I can finally get to the announcements board to check. The list is in alphabetical order, which means my name is at the top.

 _Wait what_?

My name is at the top!

 _Camilla Berkeley_ is there in black ink. It's not a typo or a mistake. I'm on the team!

Lindsay Handler, Iris Mayfield, Grace Miller, and Kate Harvey stick out on the list as the girls Mackenzie listed. Speaking of which, I scan the sheet for her name. Nothing. Mackenzie Norton isn't on the team, which means they don't have a catcher. I do some logical thinking and realize that none of the other girls on the team played catcher. Does that mean-

I recognize the voice behind me as Mackenzie Norton's.

"So, you're the new catcher."

Okay, I'm so so sorry for this crappy excuse for a chapter, hopefully the next one will be better. I'm still trying to figure out where to take this story, and any ideas are welcomed! Thank you guys so much for all the favorites/follows/reviews :)

Also, I had this random idea to give each of the original MDBC moms a chapter in this story in their POV, just for fun. Give me your thoughts!


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